RAW
by AlinaLotus
Summary: The end is near, and Mira knows the sacrifice she must make. Love makes you do crazy things, and she will do anything for Draco Malfoy. With the help of Harry Potter Mira may just save the entire wizarding world. Sequel to Rock Of Nobility.
1. Heart Noises

**Welcome back! This fic is only six chapters long, so it's much shorter than the first installment. Warnings are dark themes and language. **

Mira slept badly all week. She was used to having nightmares, but these terrifying visions that haunted those few, precious minutes of unconsciousness she managed were beyond even the worst nightmares that she had had as a child.

Blood, darkness, and a cold, merciless laugh that could only belong to one person kept waking her, and before her eyes Draco's dead, mangled body would appear. She hardly left Slytherin House, and when she bothered to attend her classes, her homework was dismal.

She had told Snape that she needed time to "prepare" herself for what lay ahead, and he said he understood and would take it up with the Headmaster. Really, Mira had no idea what she should be doing to prepare, but it was a good excuse to not have to be around her classmates.

She usually hung around the common room, as she couldn't stand the stupid remarks Denise and Pansy shot in her direction every time three seconds of silence fell in their dormitory.

Draco was hardly seen during the day, but he did manage to make time for her in the evenings, sitting with her in the common room late into the night, pulling together his homework while she stared at the wall, scowling. He would kiss her lightly, bid her goodnight, and make his own way to his dormitory.

Blaise wasn't making himself as common around her anymore, and the only times Mira saw him was in Potions, that namely being the only class she regularly attended. He would nod politely at her, but then completely ignore her the rest of the lesson. She never questioned this. He had been nice enough at first, but Mira guessed he was listening to Pansy far too often these days.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were becoming friendlier towards her, and Mira suspected they knew something of her meeting with Dumbledore. However, she didn't complain, and when Draco missed a lesson, as was often, she joined them at their table for the day's work. Mira and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement about their time together, both realizing that while it had been fantastic, they had other people to think of.

This morning, however, she was out of bed early, showered, her hair put up, school uniform on, and her books under her arm as she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry and Ron were at the Gryffindor table with Ginny, and she waved at them as she took her own seat at the Slytherin table.

She was alone, at the end, but she didn't care. Her House had sort of disowned her since that day she had spoken to Harry outside of class, and as she had been spending more time with what she had dubbed 'the trio', the Slytherins were now marking her 'Potter's whore'. Pansy in particular loved to whisper that in her direction whenever they came in contact with each other, but none of Mira's housemates were brave enough to pull that when Draco was present.

Mira ignored the cold glances she was receiving from her table, and added a scone and some bacon to her plate, swallowing a fair amount of orange juice from her goblet while setting her books down beside her.

"Mira, how delightful to see you've left the dungeon. Vampires really don't melt in the sunlight, do they girls?" Pansy was standing behind Mira, and the black-haired girl spun around to see Denise and Cheryl behind her, like vultures.

"Fuck off, Pansy. And for the record, Vampires don't _melt_, they disintegrate." Turning back to her breakfast, Mira heard Pansy click her tongue then walk off. Sighing, and wondering just why, 'sexactly, she didn't suck the life from Pansy; body already, she picked up her fork and began to eat.

"There you are, love. You weren't in the common room."

Mira smiled, and looked up at Draco's approaching form. He was exquisitely dressed, his shirt and tie pressed, his Prefect badge pinned to his vest, shining as though it had just been polished.

"You look radiant." He said, grinning, sitting down next to her.

Mira rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right….going to class today?" She said, gulping down more of her juice.

Draco shrugged. "If I feel the need."

Mira sighed. "Please, Draco? I can't stand everybody whispering about me all the time…they only don't when you're there."

Draco narrowed his pale eyes. "Let me guess who is at the root of this problem."

"Bingo." Mira said, taking a bite into a strip of bacon.

"Don't worry, love. It will be cleared up soon." And with that, Draco kissed her on the cheek and moved farther down the table, to where Pansy, Denise, Cheryl, and Blaise now sat.

Mira drank the last bit of her juice, wiped her mouth, and stood from the table. Grabbing her books, she headed towards the Gryffindor table, to talk to Harry before she made her way to her Charms lesson.

"Hey, Mira." Ron said, when Mira sat down opposite them, next to Ginny.

"Hey, guys." She responded, setting her books down and folding her hands under her chin.

"What's up?" Hermione asked Mira, flipping her curly hair over her shoulder.

"I was actually wondering if I might talk to Harry alone?" Mira said, taking it in turn to look at Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

Ginny immediately stood up, jerking her head at her brother and her best friend, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulders.

"Er, sure…" Ron said, shrugging, and he stood up, pulling Hermione with him.

When they had gone, Harry stared at Mira. "Well?" He said impatiently, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Harry…I talked to Dumbledore last week…and I've decided to join you."

Harry grinned. "Excellent, you're becoming an Order member?"

Mira scrunched her nose in disgust. "Um, no. I'm just not helping Voldemort anymore…but Snape says that I have to appear to be still, so anyway…the point, Harry, is that I know how we have to kill Voldemort."

"Oh? And how is that?" Harry asked, lifting his eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of _Morteus Effectus_?" Mira asked, lowering her voice and leaning in closer to Harry.

Harry, following her lead and bringing his face closer to hers, shook his head.

"It's death, Harry. Death." She said, her voice now a whisper.

Harry looked at her, his eyes staring into her own. "Mira, I-" He began, but was interrupted by the loud blurring of the bell throughout the Hall, signaling an end to breakfast and the beginning of lessons. "I'll talk to you later about this, Mira, let's eat lunch together, okay?" Harry said, as he rushed to pick up his bag.

Mira nodded. "Yes, all right. I'll meet you in here."

Harry grinned at her, nodded, then hurried out of the Hall to make it on time to his first lesson.


	2. Noticeably Unnoticed

Mira knew she must look horrible, that her skin was pale from spending an entire week inside the castle, her eyes bloodshot, complete with dark circles under them from lack of sleep, but she didn't care. She had find out more about _Morteus Effectus_, and therein lied her first challenge, for _Mortues Effectus_ was one of those "don't ask don't tell" things about magic. Mira grinned, thinking it would probably be easier to stroll up to a Professor and ask about Horcruxes than _Morteus Effectus_. She picked up her books, and left the Great Hall, heading for the Charms classroom.

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were already queued up outside of the classroom, waiting for Flitwick to unlock the door, and as Mira approached the back of the line, Pansy's flat face turned around, smirking at Mira.

Mira rolled her eyes in response, and slumped her back against the corridor wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Mira saw Pansy step out of the line, Denise and Cheryl, as always, right behind her. Mira set her books on the floor, and glared as Pansy made her way back to her. The students around them followed Pansy's movements with their eyes, knowing enough of the girl to know that when she left the class line something was up, or something was going to be.

"Next time you have a concern, you really shouldn't run to Draco . It's pretty pathetic that he has to protect you all the time." Pansy said, in a voice of mock-sweetness.

Mira again rolled her eyes. "Don't even start, you stupid bitch. You might try respecting me, whereas I'm capable of mutilating your ugly ass and everything." Mira thought she saw Cheryl bite back a laugh, and grinned a little over Pansy's shoulder.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Remember that day, Mira, when you walked in on me and Draco? Wasn't it dreadful to hear your ex-boyfriend screaming _my_ name as he came? Sad, really, that you could never bring him like I can."

Mira's pulse increased, her anger shooting through the roof. "Watch your fucking mouth Pansy, or I'll dislocate it for you." Mira said, through clenched teeth.

Pansy merely chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. "Don't lay your hang ups on me, Smethwyck. Draco told me yours was the worst he's ever--" Pansy was cut off mid-sentence by Mira's fist, perfectly aimed towards the her mouth.

Pansy gasped as she was thrown backwards onto the stone floor, screaming as Mira wrapped her hands around her throat and squeezed as hard as she could. Nobody was speaking, all Mira's classmates were staring on in anticipation as Pansy's face changed from the pallor color it normally held, to a steady soft blue.

"Don't you ever say that again." Mira said, giving one final squeeze then standing up. Pansy lay on the floor, clutching her throat, gasping in her breaths.

"You're fucking psycho!" She cried at Mira, massaging her neck.

"Don't forget it." Mira said, brushing away an angry tear from the corner of her eye. She looked around at her staring, silent classmates, then rolled her eyes again. "Fuck this. I'm done trying." Mira picked up her books, and turned from the corridor.

"Miss Smethwyck, what are you doing outside of lessons?" A sharp voice said behind her, as Mira turned to go down a staircase.

Mira turned, facing McGonagall. "Don't feel like lessons today, thanks." Mira said, meeting the Professor's gaze.

"How unfortunate…any particular reason why you feel that simply because the work load is too immense, or that you are being overworked, you do not have to attend lessons?"

Mira smirked at the Professor's sarcasm. "Can I ask you something, Professor?" She said, deciding McGonagall was as good a choice as any.

"That would depend. However, as I escort you to your lesson, you may." McGonagall turned back towards Flitwick's classroom, Mira following her.

"I was wondering if you could tell me about _Morteus Effectus_."

McGonagall stopped dead, her green robes swaying slowly. The Professor turned her head slowly towards Mira. Her mouth was a thin line, and her face had gone slightly pale. "Very well. This way." McGonagall said curtly, her beady eyes squinted into an astute glare. She turned sharply to her right, leading Mira down a darkened corridor. Minerva waved her wand at a large wooden door, and it sprung open, shutting by itself as soon as Mira had crossed over the threshold.

McGonagall's office wasn't ugly, but Mira thought it oddly rigid. Her large desk was a dark wood, polished and extremely neat, the only objects cluttering the top were a gold placard bearing the words Deputy Headmistress and a pin-straight stacked pile of parchments, waiting to be graded.

"Please, sit." McGonagall said, giving her wand another wave, a high-backed wooden chair matching the dark wood of the desk appearing on the opposite side of Minerva's own stiff chair.

Mira did as she was told, waiting for McGonagall to speak first as the old Professor tapped the pile of reports and they Vanished.

"Before we begin, I think I am rightly permitted to know why you, Mira, of all people, would like know about _Morteus Effectus_?" Minerva said, placing her wand primly on the desk in front of her.

Mira, who had set her stack of books at her feet, now folded her legs under her. "Well," She began, "If you must know, Dumbledore has told me that I am to be the way to kill Voldemort, and that _Morteus Effectus_ is the path I must take."

McGonagall eyed Mira sharply for a moment, then concluded that she was, indeed, telling the truth. "I assume, then, that you are Shardonian by heritage?"

Mira nodded. "From what I've been told, my mother was a Dumbledore…"

Minerva nodded. "Oh yes, she was indeed. Bright as a Dumbledore, eccentric as a Dumbledore. So, that makes you a Dumbledore, too."

Mira sighed. "Yes, I know."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "If I were you, my dear, I would not be disappointed. Although a harsh fate awaits you, it is by your hand that your parents' murderer shall be destroyed."

Mira held back from rolling her eyes, and simply nodded curtly.

McGonagall sighed, and, if possible, sat up a little straighter in her hard chair. "The beginning of _Morteus Effectus_is as ancient as magic itself…it was said that the Heathen gods put a curse on the Shrezden, for their love of the use and manipulation of fear was an abomination against the precious gift of magic. _Morteus Effectus_is a potion of blood, a potion cast after a charm of death has been placed upon the donor. As I am sure Dumbledore got across to you, this potion is only successful if the blood is that of a direct descendant of the Shrezden."

Mira nodded.

"Good. _Morteus Effectus_is extremely Dark magic, because it is the most deadly charm in the history of magic. Of course there's Avada Kedavra, but that proved, sixteen years ago, to be blockable, even if only by one person. For _Morteus Effectus_ there is no block. Death is excruciating and slow."

Mira nodded again, licking her lips. "Professor, if I might ask, what is it that makes this so dangerous? It's only a potion of blood, and blood, if I recall, is highly useful for regeneration."

Minerva gave a small smile. "You are bright, Mira, extremely bright, just as your mother. You are correct. However, the reason _Morteus Effectus_only works with a descendant of the Shrezden is because those descendants have been cursed, as I am sure you know the tale. Your blood, Mira, is fueled with the counterpart of that curse….Revenge, child. Revenge is the most powerful force on this planet, the worst kind of greed, the quickest poison. That is what makes this potion so powerful…it isn't the blood itself, it's what harbors inside of that blood."

"My hate is what is going to kill Voldemort?"

Minerva nodded. "Fifty percent of the way, yes. You will weaken Voldemort…as I have said, death is prolonged by this, and that will enable Potter to do….well, whatever Albus has said he must do."

Mira sighed. "A bit surreal, but alright…"

Minerva smiled again. "Yes, surreal is the right word, I think…now, Mira, time for you to be on your way, I have O.W.L. papers to grade."

Mira stood from her chair. "Thanks, Professor."

McGonagall nodded. "You're quiet welcome. I understand that Severus has spoken to Dumbledore, and you have been, until further notice, excused from whatever lessons you feel that you are not up to…we both know, Mira, that you are quiet capable of handling your academic load at the present time."

Mira looked sheepishly at the floor. "Yes, I only wanted to find out about what, well you know…"

Minerva nodded. "Of course. Therefore, I think it only right that you be granted unlimited access to the library to be able to catch up on your work…among other things, I am sure there are a few books in the restricted section that will interest you." McGonagall pulled out a parchment and feather quill from her desk, and was scribbling a note for Mira. "Find out all you can, Mira. It is best to be prepared." Minerva said, handing Mira the note.

Mira nodded, thanked her, and left immediately towards the library.


	3. Closet Of Doubts

Mira entered the library, the note McGonagall gave her folded crisply in her hand. She had expected the library to be completely vacated, as the first lesson of the day started half an hour ago, but there were a few isolated students milling about the book shelves, or seated at the long tables, immersed in their work.

Striding over to where the librarian, Madame Pince, was dusting off a large book with yellowed pages, Mira handed her the note. The librarian, looking extremely annoyed at being interrupted, set down the feather duster and grabbed the note from Mira, squinting beadily at it.

She looked back to Mira, her eyes like ice. "One page out of order and it will be your neck." Madame Pince said, turning her back on Mira and resuming her dusting.

Mira said nothing, but whirled around and started towards the gated area of the library. She reached the door, and was about to push it open when she was seized from behind.

"Quiet." Draco's voice whispered in her ear. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the gate, into the silent shelves of the Restricted Section. Stopping at the end of an aisle set against the high stone wall, Draco turned to Mira, and pulled her roughly to him. Before she realized what had happened, he had pressed his mouth, hard, to hers.

Mira inwardly gasped, and Draco tightly wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible to his chest. His hands trailed down her back, then up again, the tips of his fingers digging into her uniform, while his mouth worked furiously against her own, molding itself into her lips, forcing his tongue through her teeth. The kiss was so hard, so rushed, that Mira felt as though Draco were trying to suck the life out of her lips, or breath fire into her throat. She clung her arms around his neck, trying to keep pace with his rapid motions.

And then, as quickly as he had grabbed her, Draco let go of Mira, grinned at her, planted a small kiss on her forehead, and sauntered away. A second later, Mira heard the creaking of the gate closing. She shook her head, breathing out the air she had been holding while Draco had kissed her.

Rolling her eyes, she walked down the aisle, unsure of what she was, exactly, looking for. She looked over through the wooden grating to Madame Pince, who was still softly dusting the same book. No, she couldn't ask the librarian, it would be too suspicious, and for her own sake she would, if possible, like to keep all of this under wraps.

Snape? Perhaps, yes…and then it came to her, and Mira almost smacked herself for being so stupid.

Dumbledore.

---

The bell rang just as Mira stopped in front of Dumbledore's office. She remembered her lunch date with Harry, and grimaced. Doing a quick about-turn, she tucked the note McGonagall had given her into her robes, and went down to the Great Hall.

Harry was already at the Gryffindor table, a small white box set in front of him. "Hey, Mira." He said, when she stood across the table from him.

"Hi." Mira said, grinning.

"I'm just throwing us together a little picnic…I thought you'd want a more private setting than here." Harry said, grinning. He was lifting two turkey and bacon sandwiches into the box, a jug of pumpkin juice, two golden goblets, and a container of chocolate pudding, complete with whipped cream and two spoons. He shut the lid of the box, tucked it tightly under his arm, and motioned for Mira to follow him.

They left the castle; Harry led her down, down, down a long path, until they arrived at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch. The stands were empty, save for a few first years holding old broomsticks, obviously preparing for their first flying lesson.

Harry strode right to the middle of the field, set down the box, and sat beside it. "Sit, I'm starved." He said to Mira, pointing to the other side of the white box.

Mira also sat, and opened the box, distributing the food. "I hope you know, Harry, that this isn't going to be easy." She said, as she took a bite of turkey.

Harry nodded, pouring the pumpkin juice into the goblets, and reaching over the box to hand her one. "I know. Never thought it would be. But let's get the worst part over with…who's gonna have to die?"

Mira laughed. "Ever the blunt one, aren't we Potter?"

Harry grinned, wiping his hands on his robes. "You know it. So, who is it? If it's going to be me, let me know. I'm still a virgin, and that needs to be taken care of if I'm going to cop it."

Mira laughed. "You'd have many contenders for that line of care, Mr. Potter. But how would you choose out of the millions of young witches wanting a little of the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry looked sideways at her. "Would you be one of them? Because if you were, I wouldn't have to choose."

"I'm making no promises." Mira said with a slight smile.

Harry readjusted his legs, so that he was facing Mira. "I assume from the way your beating around the bush that it's you who has got to go?"

Mira bit her lip, nodding.

"Well," said Harry bracingly, "I'm sure we can find a way around it."

"Not likely. Ever heard of the Horkuli?"

Harry shook his head.

"I thought not. Well, me and your buddy Hagrid had a little outing last week, I performed the Horkuli, and the only way to kill Voldemort is to use my blood as a poison."

"Ah…" Harry said, shoving half his sandwich into his mouth and taking a great swallow out of his goblet.

"Yeah. So, I just thought you ought to know…I thought for sure you'd know about my meeting with Dumbledore. You've been so nice to me lately, I thought that was why"

Harry shook his head. "Nope…I just think you're hot."

Mira laughed. "What a charmer." She said, rolling her eyes.

The rest of their lunch hour was spent in comfortable silence, only broken when one of them commented on the horrible form of the first years, causing the other one to laugh. Mira had to admit to herself that Harry was actually nice to be around, and if she could manage it, she'd be spending more time with Boy-Wonder.

As they trooped back up to the castle Harry asked Mira, tentatively at first, if she ever spoke to Charlie.

Mira smiled sadly. "No, that part of my life is over, I'm afraid."

Harry nodded, and didn't press the matter further, and bid her goodbye at the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

As Mira descended the stone steps to her dormitory, she thought about the past few weeks of her life. Same-sex encounters, a dragon-chaser fling, a small crush on who was supposed to be her mortal enemy, allegiance to Dumbledore, and acceptance of her own death.

_Suicide_. She corrected herself. Not death, suicide. She wouldn't allow anybody else to cast the charm, she would do it herself. Die by her own hand, just like she cut with her own hand. She sighed, thinking again of Hermione. She was so beautiful, so…fragile. Yes, fragile was the word. Breakable, and soft. She couldn't be with Hermione, no matter how beautiful she was. If she couldn't be with Draco, she couldn't be with anybody.

A sad truth, as she knew that she wouldn't be with Draco…as much as he might appeal to Pansy to stop her bitchiness on Mira's behalf, that's as far as Draco would go to protect her. He had told her that Pansy was vital to his plans, and for that, he would sacrifice Mira's own well-being and happiness.

Not that that was a shock, or anything. Draco had never actually been considerate of Mira, and perhaps this was why she strived so hard for his love, why she hardly dreamt of, or hoped for, anything else.

Mira, lost in her condensed thoughts of the blond boy who she so desperately wanted, was oblivious to all around her, and as a result ran head on into Pansy Parkinson, who was on her way out of the dungeon, presumably to her next lesson.

"Watch where you're fucking going, whore!" Pansy said, as she bent to pick up her books.

Mira rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you moved the greasy hair from your eyes you'd have a clear view." She said loftily, smirking as she put her hands on her hips.

"Been having a go with Potter? You are, as I recall, his favorite slut?" Pansy said, glowering at Mira's figure.

"Wrong boy. I'm Draco's favorite," said Mira, stepping closer to Pansy, so that she was close enough to whisper in her ear, "and don't you forget it." She said softly, reaching her hand under Pansy's tucked arms, and shoving the books from her grasp, again.

Pansy seemed to have no response to this, because as Mira continued to the Slytherin common room, all she heard was a hiss of outrage and loud, stomping footsteps behind her. Smirking again, Mira stood in front of the smooth stretch of stone wall.

"Pure Blood." She said, standing back as the door slid slowly open.


	4. Spanned

Mira entered the empty common room, laid her books on a nearby table, and sat down on a green leather armchair. There was a small fire lit in the huge, stone fireplace at the front of the common room, it's purple-and-emerald flames making strange shadows on the low couches in front of it.

She checked the large, dark wood grandfather clock that stood, tall and towering, in the far corner of the common room, and sighed.

She had a break this period, her only one for the next three days, as she had qualified for NEWT level in every OWL exam she had taken. It was much easier, she noted, to do mail-order class work from the Ministry, then to attend her twelve classes, even though they were spread out during the five days of her school week.

The grandfather clock chimed, echoing softly around the stone-walled room. Mira drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking of nothing she could do. She hadn't been to any classes the day before, and she didn't plan on going to any that day, so she had no homework, as of yet.

"Mira!" Said a high-pitched voice. Mira looked around, and saw the stone door sliding shut behind Cheryl, in her modified school uniform. The skirt was shorter, just reaching mid-thigh, and her white shirt was tight, her cleavage evident from even where Mira sat across the room.

Mira smirked. Cheryl was such a slut, but in a funny, sardonic way. "Hey, Cheryl. Nice outfit."

Cheryl smiled, sitting across from Mira in an identical armchair. "Thanks! The boys seem to like it, at any rate." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I think I've seen more than boys stare at you." Mira said, folding her legs under her.

Cheryl licked her lips, nodding. "Yes, I've seen the girls too…it's kind of creepy at times, I mean I like girls and everything…they're so much softer than boys, but when it's Pansy that's trying to look down your shirt or get a peep of you in your knickers, you kind of wish you were as ugly as she was."

Mira laughed. "I always knew I liked you, Cheryl. You've got a smart head on your shoulders."

Cheryl grinned. "I know you don't like Pansy…well, I don't blame you there. I've always wondered why Draco likes her, she's kind of gross."

Mira laughed. "Try a lot gross."

"Say, you like Draco a lot, don't you, Mira? I see you always staring at him, and you guys get pretty cozy at night."

Mira tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "Erm…well, he's okay."

Cheryl narrowed her eyes at Mira, but didn't push the subject further. "Are you on a break, this period?" She said instead, twisting a lock of her hair between her index finger and thumb.

Mira nodded. "Yeah…then I have a…detention with Dumbledore, then dinner. Full day, I guess."

Cheryl raised her eyebrows. "A detention with Dumbledore, as in the Headmaster? You sure do work fast, Mira!"

"Ah well, that's me…get on the wrong side of the Headmaster the second week of term…"

Cheryl laughed. "He's a big softy anyway. His detentions are never horrible, last year I got one for pushing Pansy down a trick staircase, and we spent the whole time going through a massive bag of lemon drops…he seems to be fond of muggle sweets…"

Mira grinned. "Yeah, that's Dumbledore for you."

Cheryl folded her long legs underneath her, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You know, Mira, I don't mean to be bitchy to you…I hate to say it, but Pansy sort of has a run over the Slytherin girls."

"I noticed."

Cheryl nodded, flipping her hair again. "Yes, well, I guess what I'm saying is…I'm sorry for the way I acted…and…well, I noticed Blaise was getting friendly with you, then he just sort of branched out a bit…well, I'll tell you know, he's a fucker, and not worth your time."

"Thanks, Cheryl, honestly, I understand about Pansy, it's not a big-"

"Oh, but it is." A third voice chimed in.

Mira looked up, and saw Draco standing there, his left eye twitching. "Cheryl, would you give me a minute alone with Mira?"

Cheryl stood and left the common room without a word, and Mira turned to Draco, glaring. "Excuse me, but I was in the middle of a conversation!"

"Mira you can't be abusive to Pansy anymore, I'm sick of hearing it from-"

Mira stood up, outraged. "Me, abusive to her? She's been nothing but a fucking bitch to me since the day we met! What the hell is your bloody problem, Draco? Are you blind? I'm here, willing to give up my life so you can live and Voldemort be defeated, and you're telling me that I need to play nice with Parkinson?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Are you quite finished? Because if you're done behaving like a child, perhaps we can have a rational, adult conversation? You don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, Mira. We need Pansy, she is essential to our plan!"

"Why? So you can have a good fuck every now and then? What about me, Draco, what about us?"

Draco rubbed his forehead, sighing. "Mira, I-" He began, but Mira cut him off.

"There still is an us isn't there? You can't be giving up on me, right?" Mira said, her voice dropping from tones of anger to a small plea.

Draco stood up, and put his hands on Mira's shoulders. "You have a duty, Mira, and it isn't to save my life. It's to destroy his…let's not fool ourselves, I belong with Pansy, you must've felt…"

Mira's jaw hung open, and unwanted tears crept into her eyes. "I gave you everything, Draco…" She whispered, stepping back from him as though he were on fire. "Everything." She repeated in a deadly whisper, as she numbly turned and fled the dungeons.

The wall slid shut behind Mira, and she turned to run up the stone steps to the Entrance Hall, and out of the castle, as far away from this fucking place as she could go. She prayed that death met her at the end of that road, but knew she would not be that lucky.

As she turned, she ran face first into the folded arms of Severus Snape, who looked down at her, his face full of dismay.

"What the fuck do you want!" Mira spat, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her uniform.

"There isn't enough time in the day to tell you that, Mira, so I suggest you come with me."

"I've got some things to deal with right now, Snape, do you think you can possibly wait?" Mira burst out, desperately thinking of her razor.

Snape shook his head, glaring down at her. "While we are here, I am your Head of House, and as such you will obey my orders…now then, why don't we start with you extracting all inuring items from your person?"

Of course Snape would've seen into her mind, know where she kept her razor, know what she was going to do with it. Mira folded her arms in front of her. "I don't think the Dark Lord would appreciate you treating me like a child, Severus."

Snape brushed the black hair from his eyes, and reached out his arm, sternly grabbing Mira's upper arm. "The Dark Lord isn't here, now is he? Come." And he forcefully dragged her down the darkened corridor, to the Potions class room, and through the tables, cauldrons, and stools to his office.

"Sit." Snape said shortly, as the door snapped shut behind them.

Mira sighed, rolled her eyes, and sat at the stool on the opposite side of Snape's desk. "Why, exactly, did you want to see me?" She said, turning her stare to Snape's stiff figure.

"Dumbledore has just informed me that the plan, that is to say, your mission, is going to be moved up." Snape said silkily.

"What?" Mira said, all pretenses of anger crashing to a halt as her stomach dropped with this new information.

Snape nodded. "Yes, I understand that this would be a bit of a shock…however, I expect that you are still willing to give your services?"

Mira snorted. "You mean my blood? Yes, Severus, I am still willing…how much time do I have?" It wasn't with regret, that she said this, although some part of her did feel a slight remorse that her time on this Earth was restricted.

Snape cleared his throat. "A week…that is all. Dismissed." Snape said, in a very final sort of voice, as he turned his attention to a tall stack of parchment essays.

Mira sighed and left his office, shutting the door quietly behind her. So this was it….a week left on Earth, a week left at Hogwarts…a week to live. She wondered if this is what muggles felt like, after learning of a terminal illness they had caught. Did they feel…sorry? Not sorry that she would soon be dying, or non-existent, but sorry that she hadn't…somehow…given the world around her more? More of herself, her life, her beating heart?

She left the Potions classroom, deciding that she would go to Dumbledore now, finalize the plans for the evening of her death, and prepare herself to take that final step…prepare her self to die.

"Ah, Mira, there you are!" A voice said to her right, and Mira started, her green eyes wide as she looked up into the beaming face of Albus Dumbledore, his blue wizards hat sitting at a tilt on his head, his twinkling eyes peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"Dumbledore! I was just coming to see you, Snape just told me-"

Dumbledore held up a silencing had, still smiling serenely. "I know. But let us not think on that just now, Mira, there is something I want to show you, something you must see before your time comes to serve the Wizarding world in a way nobody else can."

Mira raised her eyebrow. "Oh really, and that would be?"

"Suffice it to say that your parents really wanted you to see this, Mira." And with that, Dumbledore turned around and walked up the case of stairs before him, leaving a very baffled Mira in his wake.


	5. Memoirs

Mira resolutely followed Dumbledore's flowing purple robe up the stone steps, wondering just why, exactly, she was going along with him. The fact that she had, for Draco's sake, thrown her own revenge aside and joined this old, white-haired man, barely permeated through her scowl, and her brilliant green eyes were reduced to neon slits.

"Just a bit further, up here." Dumbledore called cheerfully back to Mira.

Mira didn't respond, but kept her glower on the old man's back. Finally, after trekking up seven flights of stairs and down three long, seemingly endless corridors, Dumbledore stopped in front of his office, a door flanked with two stone gargoyles. Mira eyed them, while Dumbledore bowed a bit, and said in a clear voice "Sherbet Lemon."

The door creaked open, and Dumbledore walked through to his large, wooden desk. "There now, if you would, Mira, kindly take a seat." He said, gesturing with his long fingers to a scarlet armchair on the opposite side of his desk.

Mira did as she was told, sitting stiffly in the comfortable, overstuffed chair. Dumbledore had his back to her, bent low over a small cupboard. Lifting something she couldn't see into his arms, he turned back to her and placed a large, stone basin onto his desk. Mira could just make out odd symbols around the edge of the basin, and recognized a few of them to be ancient Shardonian script.

"As you will probably recognize, Mira, this is a Pensive. I am sure you know its uses?" Dumbledore questioned.

Mira shrugged. "I've never actually seen one, but I know it's kind of a container for memories."

Dumbledore, still smiling, nodded. "Very good. Yes, it is exactly what you say. This is a receptacle, if you will, of memories taken from my own mind, as well as those given to me."

Mira, exhausted and wishing desperately for this, for Life, to be over, and quickly, now sighed. "And what, pray tell, is the purpose of showing me a Pensive? And why would my parents want me to see it?"

Dumbledore peered at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Can you think of no reason why your parents would want you to see a Pensive of mine? Bearing in mind that my Pensive holds memories given to me, thoughts of others, not only my own?"

Mira's breath caught short. "You mean…you're saying, then, that my parents-?" She said, in stunned disbelief.

Dumbledore nodded seriously. "Yes, Mira. Your parents left their thoughts behind…given to me, a week before they died, in case they were never able to tell you what you need to know."

Mira sat there, staring at Dumbledore's face, wondering wildly if he was simply having her on, using her vulnerability where her family was concerned for some sick, amusing joke? But after a moment of his serene blue eyes on her green ones, Mira knew that Dumbledore was telling the truth.

About everything. Though she had joined his forces for Draco, though she had pushed aside her allegiances to Voldemort, her desire for revenge upon her parents' murderer for the sake of saving Draco's life, of delaying any suspicion on his own allegiances, she now realized that everything she had heard over the summer, at Grimmauld Place now made absolute sense to her.

It was all true…her parents, their roles as double agents, her mother's past…the Horkuli, working as correctly as it did.

"Can I see it?" Mira asked finally.

Dumbledore took from inside his robes a thick, clear glass bottle, full of a bluish silver substance, took out the cork stopper, and poured the contents gently into the Pensive. The substance melded well with that already shining from the bottom of the Pensive, and within seconds two small figures had risen from the shimmering liquid.

Mira gasped audibly as she recognized the slightly ghostly faces of her parents. She leaned in closer to the Pensive, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn't notice the tears shining in her eyes.

"If you're seeing this, Mira, it means that the time for the End has finally come." Her mother's voice, so sweet and soothing, washed over Mira like a wave of warm bath water. She had missed that voice so very much, and she almost burst out at the familiar sound of it.

"It also means that you have joined Dumbledore, for the sake of the Wizarding world. You have been so unfairly thrown into all of this, Mira, not knowing the truth. Your father and I blame ourselves for that. If you had known, Mira, known about the Curse, the Shrezden…the task that I failed to complete…perhaps things would be different now. Perhaps it would not require your blood to destroy Voldemort."

Here, her mother stopped, her voice cracking as though she were about to cry. "However many mistakes I have made, Mira, I can't change them now. Only you can. Your task, your destiny, is ahead of you now, and we are so proud of you."

Her mother stopped, the figure in the Pensive looking towards her father. "Your mother is right, Mira, we are very proud of you. Listen to Dumbledore, and Snape. Follow them, learn from them. And when you do give yourself, your mother and I will be waiting for you." Her father's figure started to spin, and with the slightest _woosh_ it had dissolved back into the Pensive.

Her mother again turned to look at her. "The sacrifice must be done this way, Mira. The Curse requires the next descendant…that is to say you, to cut your wrists, and bleed into the cauldron. Severus has already made the potion, and has the cauldron ready for you, Mira. Himself and Dumbledore will Apparate to wherever you are when you have completed this. From your wrists, it will take seventy percent of your blood or so to satisfy the potion. Needless to say, my dear daughter, after that much blood loss, you will be rendered quite useless. This is the time when Dumbledore and Severus will finish the ritual. Snape, then, or, as I am informed now, Draco, will give the potion to Voldemort. You will be dead long before this has happened. It pains me to know that I have left my responsibility to you, but as Dumbledore has told me, you are more worthy than I could ever be for this task. Remember, Mira, your father and I love you." And with that, her mother's figure too spun around, and dissolved into the contents of the Pensive.

Mira hurriedly wiped her tears away, before looking at Dumbledore. "I-- I don't know what to say…Thank you, sir." Mira managed to choke out, before finally composing herself.

Dumbledore waved his hand. "Your parents left this in my possession a week before they died, as I said, and by then they had been informed of the new plan, involving Mr. Malfoy. Professor Snape has informed me that the only reason you wish to do this, this task set to you, is to spare Draco's life, in the event that Voldemort should discover his true identity."

Mira nodded. "Yes, at first, that was it. I mean, if Voldemort died, he couldn't exactly have Draco killed for being a double agent, right? But now…it's more than that. I know Voldemort killed my parents, and I want him dead."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Quite right. And he shall die, Mira, by your own blood. The revenge in your blood, the hate and the magic of the Curse of the Shrezden, will kill him, Mira. Now, this will take place in a week. I will be in touch, Mira, and inform you where it is to happen. I suggest you use this last week to spend time with your friends."

Mira gave a hollow, defeated laugh. "Friends? I don't have friends, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "You have Harry, Mira. And never has any two people needed each other more than you and Harry. You have a bond, Mira, a rare and special friendship that you have been blessed with. You see, while you are, and quite honorably, taking this task upon yourself, you aren't only saving Draco's life, or Severus', or the entire Wizarding world…you're saving Harry's. And I think, deep down, since that day you first met at Grimmauld Place, you have known that his life is in your hands. And you, like so many others, want to protect that life." Dumbledore stopped talking, and Mira understood herself to be dismissed. Standing and giving the Headmaster one last look, she vacated his office and made her way back to the dungeons.


	6. The End

Taking Dumbledore's advice, Mira was rarely seen without Harry in that last week. She told him everything, all about her parents, what she had seen in the Pensive, her fears about actually dying. He had, in turn, given her details of his own life, and expressed the sincere wish that it was he who had to die, not her.

Taking their usual morning walk around the grounds, Harry looked sideways at Mira. "Are you still, you know, doing this for Draco?"

Mira sighed. She had confessed to Harry her undying love for Draco, and how Draco had basically rejected her, again, for Pansy. "Yes…but not entirely. I'm also, maybe more so, doing it for you."

---

In a place deep in the Forbidden Forest, farther than any decent person would allow themselves to go, low voices could be heard, muttering softly to one another.

The people in question had long black robes that toiled around the ground, collecting leaves and pine needles with each movement. The voices ceased when a loud cracking sound was heard, seeming to echo for a mile around. A tall, dark figure that held, with some cruelty, the obvious past of handsomeness walked towards the clearing in which the others were silently assembling.

"Now is the time, my faithful Death Eaters. Tonight, when the attack on the school begins, Potter will be destroyed and there will be nothing left in my path..." The high, cold whisper trailed off and the man (was it a man?) looked around the circle. "But where is Snape? Here he is supposed to stand, yet for my most faithful servant, it is quite unlike him to be late at his master's bidding. " The figure said again, in a voice more like a hiss.

"My Lord," a stout, short shape stepped forward from the circle, hands wringing nervously. "M-my Lord, Snape is convincing him up at the castle, My Lord. He said to," Here, the man swallowed. "He said to have patience, My Lord." He squeaked fearfully.

The one called Wormtail was trembling now, and the one he had addressed was looking at him curiously, as though really seeing him for the first time. "I've told you Wormtail, cowardice is not allowed so late in the game. You have disappointed me, for the last time." And with that, he pulled out a length of thing, polished wood, and hissed a word under his breath. A beam of light shot out of the stick and came in contact with Wormtail, who started shrieking. Barely heard over the sounds bellowing yells throughout the forest was a high, cold and merciless laugh.

Only two miles away, safely within the walls of a magnificent, ancient castle was a boy who had shot up in bed, clutching his forehead in pain. Harry Potter whispered only two words.

"He's here."

---

Harry ran through the castle, vaguely aware that he was in his robe and slippers, and that it was scarcely two in the morning. He knew he had to tell Dumbledore, had to let him now what he had seen, but he felt that, just now, Mira should know first.

_And how do you to plan to get into Mira's dormitory?_ A voice in the back of his mind said.

Halting to a sudden stop, Harry realized that would be impossible…remotely. Unless, of course…but really, would Snape allow-? Giving a slight groan, Harry turned around.

Yes, the only way to let Mira know would be to get Snape to tell him the password. With deadened legs, he continued his pathway to the dungeon, stopping at the top of the winding stone steps below him.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" A drawling voice said behind him.

Gratefully, Harry turned around. "Draco! Thank God, I need you tell me the password into Slytherin, I've got to tell Mira!" Perhaps it was the frantic, hurried way Harry had said these words, or maybe it was the words themselves, that was making Draco stare at Harry as though he had gone mad.

"Look, Potter, whatever it is I'm sure it can wait until morning." Draco said, shrugging.

Harry shook his head. "Damn it, Malfoy, if it could wait until morning do you honestly think I'd be running through the castle in my knickers?"

Draco smirked. "No, of course-" He stopped, looking over Harry's shoulder. Harry also whipped around, as Snape came up the stairs, his black hair hanging in his eyes.

"Oh, how delightful, a pajama party…Mr. Malfoy, your Prefect duties ended half an hour ago, get to bed this instant. As for you, Potter, I'm quite used to running into all over the castle at all hours in the morning, but this is the last straw. Perhaps now the Headmaster will-"

"He isn't here to piss you off, Severus, he's here to see me." Mira had now appeared behind Snape, wearing a black hoodie and tight Levis. Her hair was lazily tied back, and she looked very tired.

She walked around Snape, grinning at Harry. "Alright, what's up?" She said, looking him up and down, trying not to laugh at his fluffy robe.

"I'd rather talk in private, if you don't mind…" Harry mumbled, casting a sideways look where Snape and Draco stood.

Mira nodded, grabbed Harry's hand, and the two of them left a very angry looking Draco and peeved a Snape behind. Leading him to an empty classroom just off the Great Hall, Mira locked the door behind them with a wave of her wand and stood opposite Harry, leaning against a wall.

"I saw him, Mira. He's in the Forest. It's time." Harry blurted.

Mira started, and pushed herself away from the wall, her green eyes widening. "Are you sure, Harry? You specifically saw him?"

Harry nodded. "I'm positive. I know what I saw…it's happening, Mira, he's going to try and attack Hogwarts, unless we, well you, stop him first."

Mira took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well…let's go see Dumbledore, Harry."

---

Draco was running through the forest, his heart thundering loudly in his ribcage. Thank God Severus had tipped him off that this, tonight, was the very last night Mira would be on Earth. His white shirt caught on a tree limb and ripped, leaving one of his arms bare, but he didn't care, nothing mattered except that he wasn't too late.

He cursed himself, in all of his blatant foolishness. Why had he led Mira, the only person that mattered, to believe that he belonged with Pansy? Was it because something inside of him, that oh-so weak place he supposed was called a soul, didn't want her death on it? Did he truly want to believe that Mira wasn't dying to protect him from Voldemort, but the rest of the magical world?

He trampled through the undergrowth, panting. Truthfully, He didn't know why he was doing this, as it would make no difference to Mira, but he knew he had to. He knew that Mira was the only way Voldemort would ever truly be gone, that her partnership with Harry and their endeavor was the only thing that mattered now…but somehow, he felt that seeing her was the only way make it okay, to be able to accept it.

Of course he would be the one to actually give Voldemort the potion, a drink of death, and he had known that for sometime now, but he felt that the fact that it would be Mira's blood, Mira's death, had only just registered in his mind.

There was a clearing just up ahead- he felt relief spread through his body, giving him an extra shot of adrenaline. He burst through the trees into the clearing, his heart still rampaging inside him, ready to rush to Mira, but there was only more dense forest to meet him.

He sighed heavily and was about to head onward, forward, wherever Mira was, when he heard a sound. It wasn't loud, but it sounded human and he wasn't going to pass it by. Draco grabbed a wet stick off of the ground and crept cautiously towards the noise. There were shadowy shrubs and tree branches blocking his view, but he brushed them aside carelessly. Careful to not make any noise, which was almost impossible with all the wet leaves on the ground, Draco stumbled through the moist shrubs that were blocking his way and came into another patch of sunlight.

He heard the sound again coming from his left and he spun quickly around. Almost completely obstructed by view, was a figure, hunched over against a rock, a sheet of black hair shining dimly from the light of a flickering torch stuck into the ground. The grip on his stick tightened like it was a heavenly weapon that would protect him from all, but then his heart stopped.

He recognized that figure, knew the movements of that body almost by heart. Draco's grip loosened and the stick fell from his hand, leaving shavings of bark and sap in his palm, but he didn't bother with it. He rushed to the figure's side, silently praying that she was still alive. Mira was pale as death, and he couldn't tell if she was breathing.

There was a cauldron in front of her, three torches surrounding it, and a knife in her hand which was still, miraculously, curled tightly around the handle.

Dropping to his knees, he shook Mira's shoulder. "Mira, wake up!" He whispered urgently.

Her skin becoming colder by the second, Mira didn't respond. Draco, in a panic, felt his hand to her wrist and started in horror. The skin there, just by her wrist, was gashed deeply, a fragment of skin hanging from the knife Mira still held. He gripped her wrist tightly with his bare hand to stop the bleeding, though he wasn't sure what good it would do.

Thanking the gods, he felt a very faint pulse. Draco almost yelled with relief. He looked once more to Mira's ashen face, shocked to see her staring at him. Her jade eyes were open, their color even more so green by the tears in her eyes.

"Mira..." Draco whispered, squeezing his hand tighter over her wrist.

Mira blinked slowly and took a painfully slow, deep breath. "Draco." she whispered simply.

"Why did you do this? What were you thinking, it's too soon! Why didn't you wait, or ask for my help? Why did you slit your wrist open?" He said, his voice catching in his throat.

Mira didn't answer, only stared at him. She was silent for such a long time that if her eyes had not been open, Draco would have been sure she had passed out.

Finally, a noise escaped Mira, though he barely heard what she said, and leaned down and put his ear close to her mouth. "I have always done it for you, Draco. A bleeding heart means true love…" her voice was very faint and soft, Draco felt panic once again taking control. He forced himself to remain calm, squeezing his hand again over her bleeding wrist.

"For me, what does that-" he ended in a strangled gasp. Mira's eyes were still open, but they were staring straight ahead, oddly blank and unseeing. Most horrifying of all, Draco could no longer feel a pulse on her bloody wrist.

"Mira... Mira!" Draco grabbed her shoulders and shook her. There was nothing.

"Oh my God…" He whispered to himself. And then the truth hit him. She was gone, and never coming back. Her life was over, as was any chance of a future they had together. A solitary tear made it's way down his cheek, and his back hunched as he covered his face. Two loud cracks brought him back to reality, and he looked up with fury at the intruders on his grief.

"Up, Mr. Malfoy." Snape said, as he approached Draco and lifted under his arm, pulling him to his feet.

"I'm very sorry, Draco, but it is time…You will never see Mira's body again." Dumbledore appeared behind Snape, and for once there was no twinkle in his blue eyes.

"What? No, I need more time, I can bring her back, I can save her!" Draco cried, bending back down to Mira and pulling out his wand. "Severus, you know I can, I can bring her back!"

Snape shook his head slowly, and put his hand over Draco's shoulder, pulling him away from Mira. "I'm sorry, there is no spell to reawaken the dead. And Mira has done her duty, her time is finished."

Draco pushed Severus' arm off him, whirling around and bending down, picking up Mira's body. It surprised him how easily he was able to lift her, but then he noticed how thin her wrist was, and how prominent her collar bones were. She had taken to starving herself…starving herself instead of coming to him.

So this was what he done to her…he had pushed her away, pushed her so far off that thin edge of sanity, that she would rather weaken and hurt herself than think of coming to him for help. The tears came to his eyes again, and he numbly stepped forward, not knowing where he was going. All he cared about was bringing Mira back to life, of holding her would-be warm body in his arms and staring, once more, into her deep green eyes.

"No, Draco. It is over." Dumbledore had stepped around him, blocking his way. He held out his arms, lifting Mira into his own grasp. "It is over…you understand, that with this night, your attempts on my life are no long needed. And, as the Prophecy rightly says, Harry will vanquish him. You need not betray Voldemort further, Draco." Dumbledore said, as Draco stared, not really seeing, in front of him.

Draco fell to his knees, but Severus and Dumbledore were too busy conjuring Mira into the air, over the cauldron, to notice.

---

Voldemort raised his head at the sound of multiple pops echoing through the air. He expected Snape, who had told him he would come later, to bring Draco, with a potion for his newfound weakness. Whatever string of mortality his body held was taking toll, and Severus, as Potions Master, knew just the thing to cure it, until Voldemort was able to rid all of the human from himself.

What he saw made him quake with surprise, but only for a moment. Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore had just Apparated next to a big oak, just feet away from where he, Voldemort, stood. Harry paled at the sight of the person that he hated the most. The one who had killed his parents, taken Sirius, Cedric, his childhood, away from him. Anger boiled in his stomach, and he had to stop himself from using Avada Kedavra right then and there.

"Well Tom, it seems we meet again. And on some rather unfortunate business on your part." said Dumbledore. Harry felt a dangerous amount of energy radiate off of the old man, as the headmaster stepped forward slightly, so that he was blocking Harry from Voldemort's line of view.

"Is that so, Dumbledore... and you suppose that the boy can just kill me?" Voldemort had a cold smile plastered on his face.

"I do not expect Harry to take a life by himself. Not even one he hates so much that he would like to take it a thousand times. I will therefore, be helping him in the process." Harry gaped silently. It was as though Dumbledore was explaining the use of pickling a dead toad to Voldemort. Harry momentarily forgot what he was doing.

"We will just have to see about that, won't we, my dear old Professor? You will be the ones dead when I leave here tonight, Dumbledore." And there, Voldemort disappeared.

Harry's instincts took over, and he hurriedly spun around. There was not a sound in the trees but the faint howling of the wind that seemed miles and miles away from him. When Harry turned back around, he noticed too that Dumbledore was gone, but Voldemort's figure had reappeared.

Dumbledore had left him alone to kill Voldemort alone.

"Harry, don't you see? You would have been better to join me and live than to rebel against me with that Muggle loving fool."

It couldn't be true. Though his heart, beating painfully fast in his chest told him so, Harry couldn't believe it. Dumbledore was gone. But how could he be? 'I will only be gone when none here remain loyal' That's what he had said...so very long ago, had Dumbledore said those words, in Hagrid's brightly lit cabin, when he and Ron had been crouching under an Invisibility Cloak… and then Harry understood. Dumbledore wasn't gone, merely hiding, for Harry's own aide. Suddenly, Lily and James flashed before his eyes... his parents, they had been innocent. Sirius had been goaded far too long, and then he was gone on an act of bravery. Cedric was only doing his job as a champion and he, too, had been murdered.

And Mira... Mira had given her life for this day, and though he told himself he couldn't do it, Harry was ready. Holding his wand in front of him, Harry's heart began to grow. Twice it's size, pushing the lungs away, it was pounding away, giving him strength, giving him courage. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked around to see Dumbledore's face. In one hand, Dumbledore held his wand aloft, in the other, a large crystal vial full of a dark red substance.

"Repeat after me, Harry" Dumbledore said quietly and he pointed his wand up into the air.

"_Immobulis_!" Dumbledore cried, and a jet of streaming yellow light shot out of the tip of the wand he held in the air.

Harry barely heard his own voice as he too shouted the spell, and the two beams of light met, swirling around each other, seeming to gather strength, before shooting straight at a slightly mesmerized Voldemort. As the jets of light hit Voldemort, he dropped to the ground, frozen still, as though he were set in ice.

"Now, Harry…" Dumbledore said, swiftly stepping around Voldemort's body, prying open the Dark Lord's mouth with his wand. Harry stood next to Dumbledore, and when the Headmaster handed him the crystal vial Harry knew to hold Mira's blood, he poured it down Voldemort's open throat, and watched as he, the menace who had haunted the Wizarding world for far too long, was finally defeated.

Two cracks behind the pair, the old man and the young boy, sounded, and both looked around as Severus and Draco joined them, Draco looking extremely pale and tired.

"It is done…he is nearly gone." Dumbledore said, as Voldemort remained conscious just long enough to see his two most prized Death Eaters joining Dumbledore's side, watching the life being sucked from him. Finally, Lord Voldemort drew one last, rattling breath.

Another crack, louder this time, filled the air, and all four present turned to look at who arrived this time. Lupin was there, walking towards them, Ron and Hermione, looking slightly shaken, bringing up the rear. Another crack. McGonagall appeared, amidst other cracks, and soon the party included Mundungus, Tonks, Fred and George, Mad-Eye, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. They were all silent, and nobody seemed willing to break the quiet.

Mundungus pulled from his coat a dusty bottle of elderflower wine, and small crystal cups Harry vaguely recognized as those once belonging to Sirius. Handing around the cups, Dung poured a liberal amount into each, finally taking one for himself.

Harry looked around. Ron and Hermione were on either side of him, Draco and Snape in front of him, Dumbledore just to the left of Ron, and most of the Order standing close together.

He cleared his throat, and said in a ringing voice, "To Mira." He raised his cup, then drained the alcohol inside of it.

The rest of the party, in voices barely above that of a murmur, mimed him. "To Mira."

Draco was the last to raise his glass, but his eyes were not the only wet ones. Behind him, he felt Harry put a warm hand on his shoulder.

The truth had finally sunk in, the realization. Mira was gone. Her sacrifice had brought Voldemort's death, had saved the Wizarding world. Without their merciless leader, Draco knew the Death Eaters would dissolve back into magical society, shed their masks, cover their Dark Marks, and try again to live as they had 17 years ago, as though Voldemort had never returned to power.

"To Mira." Draco whispered, glad Harry's arm was keeping him steady. He vowed, then, to never forget Mira, to never live under a false pretense. Praying that she heard his apology, that she now knew of his unfaltering, strong love, Draco raised the glass to his lips.

**the end**


End file.
